


a world, not so empty anymore

by fancytropes



Category: 2gether — Fandom, Sarawat (2gether: The Series) - Fandom, Sarawat/Tine - Fandom, Tine (2gether: The Series) - Fandom, love confessions - Fandom, เพราะเราคู่กัน | 2gether: The Series (TV)
Genre: M/M, Needless to say so is Sarawat, Tine is so in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23591488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancytropes/pseuds/fancytropes
Summary: After they had confessed to each other, Tine could not believe his own words. As the night deepens, the phone rings, a serenade works its way to the heart, and feelings grow stronger.*Title from Scrubb's song, "This Person"
Comments: 5
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an imagining of what happened after Sarawat and Tine's confrontation, which led to their unplanned confession for each other. I just can't help but think of what happened the night after, since episode 8 already jumped to the next day. I love them so much, I cannot even begin to explain. 
> 
> Fellas, this goes without saying, but I'm a total amateur at writing such things. I would just like to share from the bottom of my heart. Thank you in advance for reading :)

Slamming the door shut behind him, Tine felt the last ounces of his strength released. Knees buckling, he leaned on the door in a last-ditch effort to keep himself steady, before heaving a sigh and dropping to the floor, pulling knees to chest in an ultimate act of defeat.

When he left his room hours ago in search of Sarawat, it never would have crossed his mind that what just happened would happen. Never would he have thought he would say what he blurted out at the Music Club’s dimly lit lobby. Never would he have guessed that what had started out as a ludicrous - if not impossible - favor, would take a turn for something much more serious.

And so serious it had been; so much so that he tried his damned hardest to forget, if only for a moment. And yet as much as he wanted everything to be just a figment of his imagination, it came crashing all at once: his cheeks still burned where Sarawat had pressed his palms; Sarawat’s eyes, hungry and burying themselves in his; his lips, from which Sarawat had stolen a kiss for the third time around. The number would be larger if he counted those in his dreams, where Sarawat seemed to have never left since. 

“From the day you disappeared, my life was never the same,” Tine recalled himself saying. “Whatever I do and wherever I go, you caught up with me. Even in my dreams, you were there teasing me.” He cringed mightily at the thought of his own words, and directed at Sarawat no less. Yet the truth that slapped Tine in the face was what appalled him the most: He could have said more.

In a surge of madness, Tine jumped up and bolted to bed, and on his pillow buried his crimsoned face. He screamed into it with all the pent-up frustration that had been burgeoning inside him like a volcano. When did he start feeling this way?

He could have sworn it was when, as they were watching the Scrubb concert, Sarawat grabbed his arm and placed it on his shoulders to keep him steady. Or was it when he learned what jealousy truly meant for the first time? When he began to fix his stares more at the man playing the guitar than all the pretty girls that cheered him on? Or, earlier, when Sarawat planted a kiss on him, in a drunken admission of love?

Perhaps, Tine thought, _much_ earlier. He looked up from his pillow, through the window and into the moon that seemed to pity him from above. He thought back to when Sarawat had first invited him to his room to get his guitar. In the silence of the nascent night much like this one, Tine had confessed his undying love for Scrubb - and what each of its songs meant to him - and Sarawat simply understood. And when Sarawat strummed his guitar, it filled his heart with admiration. And when Tine chimed in to the chorus of ใกล้, Sarawat let him. It seemed as cliched as any other moonlit story of romance, he realized: only the two of them talking through the song in this dark, messy flat that was, for a moment, theirs and theirs alone. And yet it was real. As he remembered all this, Tine allowed himself to think that it must have meant something more - and not just to him. 

As if right on cue, Tine’s phone rang before he died of any more shame. He reached into his back pocket, knowing before even looking at the screen that, sure enough, it was the last person he wanted to talk to right now.

“What do you want?” he greeted.

There was no response. Instead, Tine heard a strumming - the first notes to a familiar song, by a familiar voice that now spoke volumes more than when he first heard it.

“ _Meet me before it’s late_ ,” Sarawat began. “ _If you think I am the one, do not keep that thought to yourself. If you don’t make a move, who would know_?”

“What are you doing?” Tine asked, but did not bother repeating the question, especially when it had become obvious that Sarawat would not be stopped. This was a song that had been sung before, and here was a man who had serenaded him before. Strangely, however, Tine understood that the feelings that coursed through each line could not be any more different. As he listened to Sarawat, Tine resigned himself to humming the rest of คนนี้, putting his phone as close to his ear as possible, unaware that he was, in fact, already smiling. 

“ _It might be this person, the one right in front of me, the one who fulfills my day_ ,” Sarawat continued, “. . . _The world that used to be empty, is not the same anymore, only if you want to know_. . .” 

As the final notes of the song faded into the background, Tine wanted to ask what this was for. It was almost midnight, they had school tomorrow, and perhaps most important: They had just confessed to each other, hadn’t they? Instead, Tine could only listen ever so intently to the other’s breathing on the other end, gradually slowing. 

It was Sarawat who broke the silence. “Just so you know, I will.” 

“Will, what?” Tine asked, confused.

“Take responsibility for what I did to you. To answer your question. I’ll take care of you,” Sarawat pointedly answered. “And gladly so.”

By now, Tine knew Sarawat enough to assume that on the other end of the line, there was the smug face of someone who was at once embarrassed and proud of what he had just declared. He had without miss been harking back to their confrontation hours ago, when Tine finally squared him up: _Are you going to take responsibility for what you did?_

Tine let out a nervous laugh to cut the tension. “F*ck you, Sarawat, I was--er, I was just kidding.” But with that weak of a response, even he was not convinced.

“No takebacks, nuisance. I am here to stay,” Sarawat replied, to which Tine had nothing more to snap back. “Um... That song, คนนี้. I sang you this song because finally I can tell you that’s how I feel for you. Maybe I’ll serenade you again tomorrow.”

At this, Tine raised his eyebrows, remembering what only he _knew_. He remained still, contemplating whether he should tell Sarawat about what happened that one night he was a drunk mess: That this was not the first time he sang him that song, nor was it the first time he blurted out his feelings. That Tine himself had only kept delaying the inevitable. That from that night on, he had known all along, and denied it even so.

Instead, he thought better of it and let it pass. Perhaps that was a discussion for another day.

“I…” Tine said. “Thank you.” 

“For what?”

“Hmm? Ahh. Nothing, why?”

Over the phone, Tine heard the man chuckle. “I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable, Tine. Let me do the talking for now. I’ve been meaning to tell you this anyway,” Sarawat said. “Do you remember the first day you actually met me? When you ran up to me that afternoon? You overtook all those girls as if there was nothing in the world more important, do you remember? Well,” he paused, then: “That was when I just confirmed what I thought a year ago. I had to know you. I have not needed anything else since.”

Silence.

What was with this man, and his penchant for saying cheesy lines as if they were everyday greetings? Taken aback, Tine tried to think of some cheeky reply, but all his efforts went in vain. 

On the other end, Sarawat gulped before continuing, “I meant it, you know? You really don’t have to like me. Not that much, at least. Just keep your heart open, and maybe someday I’ll mean more to you.” 

It was hard to explain what was going on inside Tine. Mere moments ago, he was on the brink of questioning his life for being in such a precarious situation. Now, he thought, he wouldn’t have it any other way. Admittedly, this was far from being clear as to what he really felt, but for now he thought it was enough. And he could have told him all this, told him he was unsure and defeated and yet, happy - except the cat had already gotten his tongue. 

“Well, if you have nothing to add, that’s really all I wanted to say. Good night, Tine. I’ll see you in my dreams.”

If Tine’s heart could beat any faster, it would. “Um,” he muttered. “Good night, Sarawat.” 

At this, Sarawat once more let out a soft chuckle before finally ending the call.

 _I hate you_ , Tine thought to himself. Gently, he threw the phone on the other side of the bed as he replayed what Sarawat had told him, all the while trying to wrap his head around how unabashedly straightforward this man was. Even Tine, for all his infamous chicness, could not compare to Sarawat’s conviction, his unflinching declaration that left him no choice but to be swept away. 

For the record, Tine was not as oblivious as people seemed to think. Just a few days ago it was he who confronted Sarawat to put an end to their little act. He could see the disappointment through Sarawat’s eyes, and at once he wanted to withdraw what he had said. This was the same sorrow that filled him when Tine told him he would be courting Pear seriously. The same dismay that Sarawat showed when he failed to watch him play ทุกอย่าง at the Altermajeeb.

Tine had known all this time, and yet a part of him chose to veer toward the other direction. Each time Sarawat would declare his love for him, Tine would brush it off as nothing more than sweet nothings. Somehow, even the fact that he had only ever considered dating a woman had taken the backseat; this was less about that and more about him, and him alone. He would never admit to it in front of him, but Tine was certain Sarawat could do anything, and he would admire him for it. _How, then, could someone like him be in love with someone like me?_ The idea just seemed unthinkable.

Nothing could be further from the truth now. 

Now, for every Scrubb song that plays, Sarawat would appear on his mind. It has become a game of which memory Tine has of him that a particular song reminds him of. And when Sarawat would not be there to annoy him, he would look for him. Tine realized what Sarawat said was true: When he had something good going for him, he would tell Sarawat about it. All the more when it was something bad. It didn’t matter if Sarawat were to react sincerely or would crack a sarcastic remark; as long as he took interest in his stories, looking into him so intensely, his heart would pound like crazy either way. He had almost begun to hope Green would not stop following him, just so he would not stop following Sarawat. Thankfully, he again allowed himself to think, there was no need for that anymore. 

Which was why, when Tine thought back to when Sarawat asked him to keep his heart open, he could not help but shake his head. He kept thinking of the man that he was fated to meet all along. He kept thinking of the things that led to this night, to him thinking about Scrubb and Sarawat and how, in his mind, they’ve taken up spaces next to each other now. He thought of Sarawat and his voice and his words and his acts; more and more and more of him until he could no longer track count. His heart ached so much, yet somehow he gorged in that pain, too. And finally, without realizing it, he quietly drifted off to sleep, with only Sarawat the last thought dominating him - Sarawat wanting to love him, and him wanting to love Sarawat back. _Maybe someday I’ll mean more to you_.

 _Saraleo_ , Tine thought. _You already do_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night is young, and Sarawat couldn't remain still. Who could blame him?
> 
> And, as luck would have it, a cheeky brat bears witness to his unraveling - and will take full advantage of such vulnerability. He loves his brother anyway.

Sarawat was restless. No sooner had he grabbed his phone than he threw it aside, only to pick it up moments later. Eyebrows furrowed and lips curved in a pout, he constantly shifted in bed, turning to his side, then the other, then flat on his back. The moment he had ended the call, it was evident that Sarawat instantly wished he hadn’t.

This was a man who rarely lost his calm. His aloof, withdrawn facade often belied a dangerous beast - a man of cunning, of calculating eyes that were always set on one prize. Yet now Sarawat was none of those things. By the time he got off the phone with Tine, he felt hunger like never before, and against his better judgment, he was desperate for another call. This once, perhaps, his behavior could be excused.

Much too preoccupied, Sarawat realized late that someone had been watching him up close. 

Nestled in one corner, Phukong had arrived unnoticed by Sarawat, who had been busy serenading a certain someone over the phone. Only after another round of turning on his bed did Sarawat finally catch sight of his brother, an eyebrow raised and lips curved in a sinister smirk.

“Phukong!” Startled, Sarawat sat up, his eyes wide and mouth agape. Much to his horror, he realized that the younger Guntithanon had just heard everything he said over the phone, and that there was no way this topic would die any soon.

“ _Shia_ ,” Phukong began. “I didn’t know my brother was so romantic.”

“Phukong,” Sarawat repeated, this time with a tone of warning. But this only brought a grin to the other’s face. 

“You’re scaring me, P’,” Phukong taunted. “I should call P’Tine to calm you down.”

When Sarawat finally did calm down, he looked at the clock and returned to Phukong, who was very much still in his school uniform. “It’s late. What time did you come home?”

“Just on time to see what you’ve been up to,” replied Phukong. Then, eyes gleaming, he extended his arms and gestured to the space between them, as though curating a vivid scenario. “Ah, dear brother. You were just together a while ago and you still can’t get enough of each other.” 

Tongue-tied, Sarawat could only endure as his brother teased him more. “Yeah, I was there when you grabbed P’Tine from P’Mil," Phukong added, nodding, as if to answer the questions that formed on his face. "So, what happened after... Did you tell him you like him? Did you kiss and make up? Does this mean I’m going to see more action in this room? I’m still traumatized from that, by the way.” 

And the more Sarawat was reminded of what happened that night, the more his heart raced until it seemed impossible to bear. His forehead burned alarmingly, and his cheeks would have turned red had his complexion been any fairer. Yet as his brother continued to poke fun at him, Sarawat simply let him have his way. 

His brother had always been curious about who Tine was, and sometimes, Sarawat would tell him things. _Yes, it was at that concert. Yes, we’re talking now. No, you can’t call him your brother-in-law._ But ever since Phukong and their mother caught him red-handed on top of Tine, his brother’s sleuthing turned more aggressive and has been nonstop. Normally, he would have ignored the slew of questions hurled against him - but it was different now. 

Phukong had seen him at his worst, after all. 

If Sarawat was being honest, when Tine had put an end to their fake relationship about a week ago, he completely spiraled down and turned into a full blown mess. He rarely ate, rarely bathed, rarely slept, and would often blank out for long periods, only for his brother to snap him back and force him to eat something. Phukong would prod him into attending class and joining band practice, and when he arrived home a meal was waiting. He never told his brother what happened, but there was no need. His brother seemed to understand, and that was enough.

But now, even if he wanted to tell Phukong if only to appease his curiosity, Sarawat himself found it hard to process what had happened. Barely a couple of hours ago, Tine just practically told him the feelings were mutual. That was real, wasn’t it?

“P’, are you okay?” Phukong asked, while he was deep in thought. “Still alive?”

Despite everything, however, Sarawat still remained sharp to notice something Phukong said that did not sit well with him. As he set his thoughts aside, Sarawat turned to his brother and asked back, “How do you know him by the way?”

“Know who, P’Tine? I mean, you weren’t exactly being subtle here-”

“No. I meant Mil. How do you know that guy?”

And there it was. His brother’s turn to be surprised.

Phukong’s eyes grew bigger, his blush went apparent, and a frown creased his forehead - Sarawat only had to look at him once before knowing that something was amiss. For all his genius, Phukong was still young and naive, unable to safely tuck his thoughts away. “Ahh, P’Mil! Of course I know him,” Phukong said, forcing a smile. “An architecture major whose band is as popular as yours. And didn’t I tell you I would enroll in Architecture?”

Sarawat narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “Oh, yeah. And didn’t you say you found a tutor?”

“Ah, yes! But it’s not P’Mil, no definitely not,” Phukong said frantically, his voice reaching a higher pitch. Then he clapped his hands together. “Speaking of my tutor! My tutor worked me hard today and I’m too tired. I’m taking a shower first, P’. Still have a lot of homework…”

Phukong mumbled away as he headed straight for the shower, and the conversation was over as quickly as it started.

Sarawat still had things he wanted to ask his brother, but he did not mind saving those questions for later. Let him keep secrets, Sarawat thought. The truth will come out soon enough. And besides, Mil was not worth his time. Before their brief altercation that night, Sarawat had only known the guy as a colleague in the industry, but nothing more.

Truthfully, Sarawat could count on one hand the things that truly bothered him. For instance, when he learned of a cult-like fans’ club dedicated solely to him, Sarawat did not think much of it. When threats borne out of jealousy made their way to his phone, he simply deleted them. And when his car got keyed the other day, he almost lost his cool, but then he let that pass, too. Sarawat would feel a prickle of anger now and then, as anyone in his shoes would. But these were things that passed eventually, and he thought better than to take them seriously. 

_And yet_. When Sarawat saw Mil patting Tine’s head, resentment crept up his spine. And when it had become clear that Tine was not enjoying Mil’s actions either, his resentment crawled through his veins and quickly escalated into rage, one enough to make him do anything - wage war, if need be. 

Everything about Tine and the idea that someone other than Sarawat would be patting his head, it seemed, bothered him. 

In the bathroom, the shower had just started running. As Sarawat relaxed on his back and cushioned his arm beneath his head, he wandered further into the memory of tonight, mulling over how the odds were still in his favor. After all, if not for his fight with Mil, he and Tine would not have talked again - let alone confessed to each other - and he would not have learned that his feelings were already being reciprocated. 

“He said I was teasing him in his dreams,” he whispered to himself, recalling what Tine had told him. “That makes the two of us then.”

As the clock struck 11 p.m., and Sarawat still kept replaying what happened, he wondered if Tine was sleeping by now or if he was doing the same. Instantly, Sarawat craved to hear his voice again, desired to see him once more. And although the saner part of him eventually overcame his fervor, resisting the urge to call Tine, it only made him ever more restless.

So before he could place his hands somewhere else entirely, Sarawat decided to pass the time the best way he knew how. 

As he picked up the guitar, one song in particular kept ringing in his ears; a song so simple and yet so forthright. Thanks to a certain someone, he could play ทุกอย่าง with his eyes closed, having learned it by heart. And as he began to strum its first notes, he found comfort in its message that seemed to echo his own.

“ _I will do everything,_ ” he began to sing softly, while the shower kept running in the bathroom. “ _I will try every possible way, it makes me know well what things will be…_ ” 

As he sang, Sarawat lingered just a little bit longer on the way Tine said he was _teasing_ him in his dreams. It rattled him so much - the way Tine’s soft, childlike voice begged for mercy, as if yearning for help - a feeling that Sarawat understood so well; for did it not take him a year to have come this far? Was this not what he had been going through since having first laid eyes on Tine?

The confession itself had been surreal. Witnessing Tine admit to his feelings was something else. Forget the validation, forget his own selfish desire. What filled Sarawat was a sense of duty: he would protect this person from any and all that sought to put him in harm’s way. And if it ever came to that point, including himself. That was precisely why, despite every fiber in him yelling not to, Sarawat backed down when Tine had asked him to. Yet, something told Sarawat that if it were to happen again, Tine would have to forgive him. After tonight, when all had been said and done, leaving was out of the question. 

And was it his vanity talking? As he continued to strum his guitar, Sarawat only felt one thing: that this, all along, was how it should have always been. 

“ _It doesn’t matter who you like. Just look at me; that’s all it takes to make me happy…_ ”

As the song progressed, Sarawat instinctively looked back to the memory of when he had first seen Tine. That day, a boy kept blocking his view that he could barely watch the band onstage, but he didn’t mind. He had simply been dragged by his peers to a free concert that barely piqued his interest, anyway. Scrubb was a cool band, though certainly not a favorite. 

But then, just as Sarawat was dipping into boredom in the chaos of that concert, the boy in front of him accidentally bumped into his chest and stepped on his feet. The boy turned around to quickly apologize - and suddenly, there he was, all for Sarawat to see: the boy, a tad inch taller; his black shorts, his pearly white polo; his arms waving out of sync; his jumps that could have reached the sky; his smile, a life of its own.

Theirs was but a solid four seconds of interaction. But for Sarawat, life has never been the same, the world suddenly just a bit brighter. 

“ _I don’t care who you like, it doesn’t matter what the reality is,_ ” he kept playing, nearing the chorus’s end. “ _All I know is that you are the one in my heart...”_

Not once has Sarawat forgotten the boy’s face, nor given up on attending every Scrubb concert possible, if only for the slim chance of a second meeting. He has memorized the outline of his face, the contour of his shoulders, the curve of his waist, and how every part of him caught the light - a display that Sarawat would spend years reveling in, no matter how blinding. 

But in a million years, never would he have predicted that this same boy would show up over a year later, in the oddest of circumstances no less. And once Sarawat had learned why, he felt as though he had escaped the treacherous depths of uncertainty only to face a more daunting foe. _Would you be my fake boyfriend?_ Yet even this, he welcomed with grace. 

“ _Just look at me… That’s all it takes to make me happy_...”

And here they were now, weren’t they? Almost falling, but not quite. Not yet.

“Oh, god,” Phukong blurted from the bathroom doorway. “Please stop grinning like a lunatic.”

As if having been freed from a trance, Sarawat looked up at his brother, wet and draped in a towel. _I was grinning? Shit._ “What?” 

“You were just staring at the guitar and grinning! It’s so creepy, P’, stop it!”

“Don’t start now or you’ll end up sleeping naked outside.”

“Aw, P’! You’re heartless! What would P’Tine say about you,” replied Phukong, shaking his head in mock disappointment. The boy was ready for another round of sibling banter. “And you even looked so in love playing the guitar earlier.”

With a sheepish smile, Sarawat rolled his eyes and looked the other way. His brother may be a pain in the ass, but Sarawat has long learned that he could be honest around him. Besides, Phukong could not be more right, and Sarawat was not about to deny the best thing that has ever happened to him.

Still very much wet and wrapped in a towel, Phukong suddenly jumped onto the bed and snuggled next to him, beaming. “For real, though,” Phukong said, his tone just a bit more genuine. “P’, I’m happy for you. You’ve found him.”

“The bed’s getting wet, Phukong,” Sarawat warned, though he didn’t really mind. There were much worse things than wet bed sheets. Here was his brother, whom he knew he would spend bantering with for many days ahead, and he shivered at the idea. But at least for tonight, Sarawat reckoned, he would put his guard down. “ _Khob khun krab_ ,” Sarawat said finally, after a long pause. “I am happy, too.”

And before Phukong stood up and got dressed for sleep, he gave Sarawat a slight pat on the shoulder. “You’ll get him soon. You just wait,” Phukong assured him, winking. “ _Susu na_!” 

And wasn’t that the plan all along? Sarawat has already waited for a long time; what is a little more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought my yearning would be sated by writing a one-shot, but surprisingly, here's a second chapter. I've always wanted to explore deep into Sarawat's thoughts (and his interaction with Phukong - protect the boy AT ALL COSTS), since rarely do we get a glimpse of him that is not cool and collected. Here's an imagining of what happened later on the night of the confession, taking place directly after what happened in chapter 1. 
> 
> As always, a disclaimer: though I always tried to write consistent with canon, I may have made misses. Any comments are deeply appreciated. Thank you in advance for reading. :)


End file.
